.. and Horng himself, tired and calm on the edge of the Flat, amid
the ruins of a city. He remembered the others in that crumbling last
home of an entire race ... slow, quiet, uncaring.
"I don't think they'll do anything. They wouldn't see any point to it."
He paused, remembering. "They lost all their purpose eight thousand
years ago," he said quietly.
Manning grunted. "Somehow I lack your touching faith in them."
"And somehow," Rynason said, "I lack your burning ambition to find an
enemy, a handy menace to crush. You argue too hard, Manning."
Manning raised an eyebrow. "I suppose I haven't even put a doubt in your
mind about them? Not one doubt?"
Rynason turned away and didn't answer.
Manning sighed. "Maybe it's time I went out there myself and had a
seance with the horses." He set down his glass of brandy, which he had
been turning in his hand as he spoke. "Lee, I want you to check back
here with me in two hours ... by then I should have things straightened
up and ready to go."
He strode to the supply closet at one end of the room and took from it a
belt and holster, from which he removed a recent-model regulation
stunner.
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